


Matchmaking

by WahlBuilder



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blind Date, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, twenty headcanons in a trench coat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-07 18:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19474846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: In a few words: kids made them do it. And kids were right.





	1. Chapter 1

It starts when Ez comes to Anton and says, “Anton, you need to get laid.”

Anton lifts his gaze at him. “Who taught you such things and where can I find Pinky so I could kick his ass?”

“Come on, Boss, I’m twenty-one, I know about these things! Did them, too.”

Anton raises his brows. Probably because he’s surprised. Not because Ez’s face is heating up. He is not lying! He did… things.

“But I am fine as it is, please keep out of my love life.”

He perks up. “You have a love life?”

Anton lowers his gaze to his datapad. “Not your concern, Mousie. I don’t have _anything_ and that’s ideal for me.”

“Come on, I know you are into guys! And you think I don’t see you’ve been cranky lately, looking like someone stepped on your tail and ate all your cake? And nothing is happening to make you so, even the agents are quiet! Why don’t you go on a date, have fun?”

Anton puts down the datapad very carefully. “I don’t need a date,” he says, his accent suddenly thickening. “I don’t need _anyone_ , I’m fine as it is, without _any_ dates.”

Ez taps his thigh, then says, “Okay! Forget I said anything.”

Anton narrows his eyes. “You are dropping the issue?”

He shrugs (and tries to do a convincing innocent face). “Yep. You told me you’re fine, so, that’s okay. See you later!” He leaves as fast as he can.

So, Anton has a love life! And it’s causing him some upset. How did they all miss it? Or is it just Ez and nobody told him? But, no, Alex did say that Anton should probably get laid, and Alex knows everything. So, they overlooked it. Exciting! Ez is going to find out who that is and scratch his knuckles on the guy’s jaw.

Okay, maybe not that, but A Talk is in order.

Who might that be? Ez hopes the guy’s super handsome, because his Da— _Anton_ deserves someone super handsome. And clever. And caring. But, wait, he’s made Anton upset, so maybe he’s not very caring or not very clever. Or not handsome, even.

Come to think of it, Ez doesn’t even know whether Anton has a type. All the years they’ve known each other, he doesn’t remember Anton dating anyone or... Or getting laid. Because if Anton had got— had a date, the guy would come and beg at Anton’s door for a repeat, right? Because Anton is the best. There should be queues of handsome men at his door.

Maybe Anton did try to get laid... or have a date, but it didn’t work out and that’s why he’s cranky? Over one failed date? Of course it’s the other guy’s fault, Ez has no doubt about that. That failure of a date _failed_ to see just how super-awesome Anton is. His loss!

But now Anton is upset. He’s been upset for two weeks or so. Over one date? No, that doesn’t seem right.

No, wait. Anton hasn’t had any dates for years, and maybe he wanted to have one now but it failed—because of the other guy—but Anton thinks it’s his own fault? Or he just really, really wanted to... do the do, but, well, the failed date.

And if there wasn’t any date, if Anton is cranky... just because, then they’ll simply find him a date.

Ez tries to picture a guy Boss might like. Someone... Short? Mm, gentle and romantic and maybe a little shy and nervous— Wait, he’s thinking about Žal. Right, he should go to Žal! He reads all the romances and knows what’s up. He should also go to Uncle Janek, maybe he knows something, at least about Anton’s type. And go to Pinky, of course. They need recon, information.

Ez will be in charge of this whole operation, yes.

***

“Ez, I don’t think it’s a good idea. In fact, I think it’s a totally bad idea.”

“It’s the best idea, Pinky! Here we are, having broken into the den of the Big Cat—”

“Ez, you used your own key.”

“Broken into the den—we are going to find all sorts of evidence here!”

“Right, like the evidence that Boss—”

“Big Cat!”

“ _Big Cat_ is going to kill us.”

Alex sighs and looks around Anton’s apartment. He was starting to think something was wrong, too. And Ez has intuition of an Ophirian Slums native, even though the execution of his plans tends to be... less than ideal. Boss has been cranky for no apparent reason. Maybe it’s one of Those Episodes—but the usual signs are absent, and business has been going well lately. Yes, the Bureau is suspiciously quiet, but that can’t be the sole reason for Anton’s mood.

On the other hand, a secret admirer or a date would be difficult to hide. This is the Slums, and people know Anton, that’s exactly why Anton kept away from diving into dating. One of the reasons, anyway. And that’s a puzzle, too, because if Anton decided to start dating... Why now?

They keep looking.

***

Jeffrey watches the Colonel work, and it doesn’t seem to bother Viktor in any way. All right, time to say it. “Colonel? Maybe you should do something good for yourself? Away from work. Meet someone who’s not an agent or a target?”

Viktor doesn’t even look up from his writing. “What exactly do you mean, Jeffrey?”

“I mean, um. Meet someone like... Like on a date?”

“I have enough dates, thank you.”

_Enough dates?!_

The Colonel must feel his astonished silence, and looks up. “At missions, Jeffrey. I do not wish to have more.”

Oh. “But that’s work!”

Viktor stops. “I’m perfectly fine without dates,” he says evenly, not looking at Jeff. “Without dates or datemates, and I’m fine with devoting my life in its entirety to my duty. It doesn’t matter what I want anyway.” He pauses, then glances at Jeff, as though only now remembering he’s here. “Thank you for your concern, Jeffrey.”

Jeffrey leaves full of thoughts.

It sounded like Viktor was arguing with someone. Himself, but also someone, as though he’s had this conversation before... Or was rehearsing it to have it later.

Jeff didn’t actually imply a romantic date. He’s noticed that Viktor doesn’t show interest in anyone, and that’s fine. But even Viktor would benefit from a friend who is not from their circles.

And Viktor jumped straight to romantic side. Interesting.

It’s not his concern, of course, Da— Colonel can do whatever he wants (even though it feels like he’s not doing what he wants). But. They have to look after each other, don’t they? And they have to look after the Colonel because Shadow knows the Colonel is bad at looking after himself.

...Does Henry know? Viktor is the only person in the whole Bureau who can, somehow, hide anything from Henry. And if it’s the case, they are out of luck.

But the last few weeks have been surprisingly quiet, even with the Vory. And yet the Colonel is working as though he’s aching for an early grave (Jeff doesn’t like the thought). Sleeps in the office again, if at all. Jeff wonders whether Viktor has even been outside over the course of these two weeks. At least for a smoke. The bad thing about the HQ is that Viktor can hole up without communicating with the outer world. All amenities are here: the cafeterias, the dormitories, even separate apartments on the upper levels. Showers and all that. A tiny winter garden, mostly for show and for guests, but somehow surviving the irregular care of the agents.

Jeff decides to make it his new mission: Take Care Of Viktor Watcher.

***

“Pa— Anton, do you have a type?”

Anton sighs. “What type?”

Ez toes off his shoes, climbs on the couch and sits on the back. “You know. A type in men!”

The problem is, their venture into Anton’s apartment didn’t prove anything. (“Aha, a fancy shirt!” — “Ez, that’s _Anton_ _’s_ shirt, he wears it often, you saw him.” — “A dating shirt!” — “Sigh.”) So, maybe Anton is lonely and needs to get laid but he had a failed date.

So, it’s their duty to help him! (And to stop Anton’s snapping at everyone.)

And like the usual, recon is the first thing to do. After brainstorming what kind of men Anton might like, they decided to just ask Anton himself.

Anton sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Firstly, I like men who don’t stick their tiny mousie noses into my business.”

“Right!” A clue!

Anton gives him a weird look, then leans back in his chair, face thoughtful. Even wistful. “Tall. Handsome as fuck, elegant, quick. Clever. Beautiful hands. Eyes to kill for. Witty, and stubborn, and proud, not afraid to stand up to me, to confront me. Private. Precise in everything, in physical need of order. Tender...” He shakes his head. “This is nonsense. Forget about it.” He returns to his work.

Ez nods, a wooden smile on his face, and marches right away.

He stumbles into their Strategic Center (Žal’s room), full of panic. “Guys! He’s dating Uncle Ian!”

Žal drops a book, and Alex frowns. “What? But Uncle Ian is married!”

Ez runs his fingers into his hair. “Exactly! That’s why all the angst, and he’s feeling guilty about it! That’s why Uncle Ian looked pissed when I mentioned Pa’s dating thing! Or, wait.” He drops his hands. “Maybe he’s got a crush on Ian! I don’t think he’ll ever break into ConCon and Ian’s marriage...”

Alex lifts his hands. “Okay, okay, hold your ostriches. Why do you think Boss has a thing for Ian?”

Ez repeats what Anton said about the type, and both Alex and Žal nod along—until he gets to the “order” part.

Alex snaps his fingers. “This is it! Uncle Ian is notoriously messy, this can’t be him.”

Žal raises his hand. “Guys? It fits Uncle D.”

They stare at him, and color starts creeping up his cheeks, but he proceeds to count on his fingers: “Tall, handsome, beautiful eyes and hands, clever, would confront Boss if needed, kind, and I don’t know about the order thing, but he’s leading a whole city-state, so he must be orderly.”

Ez grins. “Didn’t know you had a crush on Dandolo.”

Žal drops his face in his hands.

Alex rubs his chin. “Yes, Žal, there’s a grain of truth in it, well done! And, fuck, it would explain a lot of things, you know? But still... This thing has started about two weeks ago, and we didn’t have any urgent or private news from Noctis. And it doesn’t look like it’s just Anton stewing in his thoughts. Damn. We are out of suspects.”

Ez brightens. “That’s easy! Who has info on almost everyone?”

Alex blinks at him, and even Žal lifts his face. “Uh, we?”

Ez clicks his tongue. That’s why he is the head of the operation. “The Bureau!”

“Ez,” Žal says carefully, “you know that Boss strictly forbids breaking into the HQ.”

“We aren’t going to break into it, you silly! We are going to send Genko!”

They stare at him in pure horror. “No!”

“Yes! Why not? They can visit their datemate.”

Žal and Alex exchange horrified glances, then look at Ez. “Misha works at the Bureau?!”

What. “What? No, of course not! Misha is ours. Wait,” he grins. “You don’t know that Genko is dating an agent?”

_“Genko is dating an agent?!”_

He laughs. “Yeah, seems you don’t know.”

Alex puts aside the shock of _Genko dating an agent—_

“Well, Misha is dating that agent, too, they have a three-way thing.”

_—and Misha dating that agent, holyfu—_

Alex sighs. “All right. We... But we’d have to get Zhenya into our group and explain everything. Suppose we did. Suppose they go to their agent... What are they going to ask about?”

Ez shrugs. “To find everyone in Ophir who fits the description.”

Žal shakes his head. “It might be hundreds of people.”

Ez shrugs again. “Good! A bigger pool of contenders. We’ll choose the most worthy.”

“And then what? We can’t just, you know, grab those men and tie them down and push Anton into the room with them.”

Ez frowns. “Why not?”

n the end, they decide to first obtain the info, then decide on the further steps. (“Abduct them!” — “No!” — “Tie them down?” — _“No!”_ )

***

When Zhenechka calls Henry to an “urgent meeting”, Henry all but runs to _The Rainbow_. Zhenya is already there in the black jacket, smiling sheepishly at the waiter’s greetings. Henry flops on the couch in their booth, a coconut milkshake already waiting for them.

Zhenya looks a little frayed around the edges and nervous, and very, very serious—but they always look serious, because everything is a Serious Matter.

“Genko, sweetheart, is everything all right?”

They sigh. “It’s a little... Oh, Henry. We need your help.”

Henry tenses up more, and sucks out half of their milkshake in one go. “Yes, anything, sweetheart.”

Zhenya sighs, twirling their cup of coffee on the saucer. “We are trying to get Boss a date.”

Funny how both rivaling factions seem to have the same problem at the same time. Fate. Henry drinks more of their milkshake, thinking, then shrugs. “Yes, sweetheart, I’ll help, why not.” And get interesting info on the Vory boss, maybe it will cheer Viktor up. “What do you want my help for?”

Zhenya smiles (Henry is ready to give them everything). “Thank you! The thing is, Boss has very specific tastes, and we figured you have lots of profiles so maybe you can find at least several candidates.”

Henry leans back on the couch. “Hm. But we mostly have profiles on criminals and high-ranking people, which, usually, are the same... But I’ll see what I can do. What are his requirements?”

And Henry feels their own face freezing more and more as Zhenya goes through the list.

Fucking. Hell.

If they tell Viktor all this—this _list_ that states clearly that Viktor fits Anton Rogue’s type perfectly... Viktor will shoot him on the spot, and Henry won’t even begrudge him.

This is ridiculous.

(If Viktor finds out, he will, no doubt, use himself as bait, will try to seduce the Vory boss... No. No, he will never find out, Henry won’t ever let it happen. They will tell the Colonel about Anton’s preferences—but make them the opposite of the truth.)

Henry thinks about it the rest of the day after the meeting.

His own and Jeffrey’s attempts to find out the reason for Viktor’s mood have been unsuccessful. Maybe they, too, should try to do something like this? Find Viktor’s requirements for a partner, find suitable candidates, organize a date...

But no, Viktor stated clearly he doesn’t want any of that—even though it sounded strange. Not because there’s anything strange about not being interested in dating, but there was something strange about Viktor’s tone, judging by Jeffrey’s words. It was something _personal_.

They sigh, raking their brains for candidates. Zhenya couldn’t say which of the requirements are an absolute must and which can be overlooked if other conditions are met, so Henry tries to find those who fit everything on the list.

Shadow, Viktor fits so well. Henry pictures them together... If they were to put aside... well, everything, Viktor and the Vory boss would look very handsome together. A striking contrast on the outside, and yet so many similarities on the inside. And they’ve known each other as enemies for years—and sometimes this kind of knowledge is more intimate and sincere than between closest friends.

But Viktor may or may not be having problems with someone else already, so that’s out of the question.

Henry sighs.

“What are you sighing about?”

They look up at Jeff. “Our little problem, my dear. You know, I think you should go and ask our Colonel about his preferences. Or... Frame is as a theoretical situation. You know? Like he does it with us. In a room full of people...”

Jeff nods. “Yeah, yeah, ‘which one you’d pick’. You think it’s going to work?”

Henry shrugs. They honestly don’t know. “At least as an exercise?”

***

Jeff is, supposedly, back at Greenhope, visiting his parents, so he can’t leave the HQ in case someone catches him. (It’s a perfect excuse to keep Viktor’s company.) It’s late at night, and he makes tea, piles sandwiches on a tray and goes to Viktor’s office. “Sir?”

“Yes, Jeffrey, come in.”

Still working. Haven’t slept for... Jeff glances at the clock on the wall. Twenty-six hours? Damn.

“I have tea and sandwiches here, sir, want to help me with them?”

Viktor sighs. He looks like shit, to be honest, paler than usual and frowning all the time. “You won’t leave me until I do, so let’s get this over with.”

Success! Jeff goes over to the desk, puts Viktor’s mug down, and then a plate with sandwiches that are full of lettuce and tomato and cucumbers and... mostly vegetables, and only thin slices of whole-grain bread.

Then grabs his bacon and ham and cheese sandwiches he’s made for himself, and his mug, and goes to the couch, watching Viktor.

Viktor reaches for a sandwich and... pulls a leaf of lettuce from between everything, chewing with a cronch. Huh.

Anyway. “Viktor?”

“Yes, Jeffrey?”

“Suppose you were in a room.”

Viktor puts down a pen, takes a sip from the mug, frowns deeper (is something wrong with the tea? it’s their usual tea, and Jeff tried to make it the sweet tar that Viktor likes). Then puts his elbows on the desk, closes his hands and leans forward.

Jeff squirms at the attention, pleased.

“Suppose you were in a room full of... various people. And it’s a pleasant occasion, not something loud and fancy, and it’s people you kind of know but not quite, and...”

Viktor raises both brows.

Jeff chews on his bacon. _“Anyway_. It’s all good and there’s no mission to be had, you are relaxing.”

The brows go even higher.

“It’s a _hypothetical_ situation.”

“Hypothetical, got it.” There is a bit of amusement in Viktor’s tone.

“Sooo... And maybe, _hypothetically_ , you are looking for a date.”

Viktor leans back, reaches for another sand— no, another leaf. “A date.”

Okay, this isn’t going well. “Yes, a date. Or maybe, you know, just a quick and easy thing that you are...”

“I am?”

“You are... I mean...” No, he’s not blushing, he’s not, why the fuck is he blushing? “I mean. You’re looking for _someone_ ,” he finishes triumphantly. Henry would be proud. “For whatever. For a little bit of fun. Who would that be? I mean,” he tries to gesture nonchalantly and nearly splashes himself with hot tea. “Physically. In appearance.”

He is sure that Viktor can see right through him _and_ the wall behind him. And that Viktor takes another sip and eats a full sandwich very slowly just to torture him a little, and not because he’s thinking.

(There is something... like cracks, in Viktor’s face. In the mask.)

“It would be a man.”

Jeff leans forward a little. Viktor isn’t looking at him, but rather at some point in middle distance.

“Shorter than me. Large. Muscular, but not like a bodybuilder, more like... a street fighter. Quick in his step. Thighs like...” Viktor smiles a little.

Jeff stops breathing, to not scare away the moment.

“Inked. More extensively than me. Eyes like blood in the sand, and the most kissable mouth. Stubborn. Proud of who he is, never hiding it. A voice to kill for, and clever hands. A strategic mind. Very emotional. So easy to read, but so unpredictable—a challenge. So caring, and so fierce...” Something dies, shuts on Viktor’s face, and he sighs, then drinks from his mug and looks at Jeff. “Have I passed your test, Jeffrey?”

He closes his mouth with a snap. “Y-yeah, I suppose you did. That is... very interesting.” He yawns wide. “All right, I think I should go to sleep. Please finish the sandwiches? Or Henry will shoot me.”

Viktor smiles—weary. “In this case I have no choice but to finish them. Good night, my boy.”

He smiles, too. “Good night, Viktor.”

But first, he goes to Henry’s room and repeats what Viktor told him. “You were right! I should have just presented it as an exercise... What’s wrong?”

Henry looks sour, braiding their hair. “See, my dear heart, presenting it as an exercise has a downside.”

“And what is it?”

“We don’t know whether he told the truth.”

He sinks onto Henry’s bed. “Fuck.”

“Don’t fucking swear.”

“Sorry.”

“So what now?”

Henry sighs. “I have no fucking idea, my dear boy. I guess we should just leave it as it is. Leave him alone.”

He doesn’t like it one bit. “But something’s happening to him! Nobody notices except for us. And who else would take care of him?”

“Us, but you know how he is.”

Yeah. He knows.

“You know,” Henry says, “the description reminds me of someone, I just can’t catch of whom. I’ll think on it a little. You did so well, I’m proud.” They pull Jeff close and kiss him on the temple.

He sighs. “Thank you. And I made him eat a little.”

“Yes. Thank you, dear. Now go to sleep, it’s late. And don’t worry about your Davie, it’s going to be all right.”

He jumps to his feet. “How do you... Aw fuck, of course you know!”

Henry smiles. “Of course. Now go, go. Good night, dear.”

“You sneak. Good night, Henry.”

***

Henry thinks about the information Jeffrey has brought for a long time, lying on the bed in the darkness.

The height isn’t an issue at all, because about 80% of Ophir is significantly shorter than Viktor. There are enough street-fighters, and enough men with inks, especially in the Slums. Misha has inks, and he’s—Henry imagines themself against Misha then against Vik—he’s shorter than Viktor and he’s big and muscular.

Hm. Misha has a soft mouth—Viktor didn’t say anything about a beard, fuck. But, anyway. There are plenty of men who fit at least 80% of the physical characteristics. “A voice to kill for” is a rather subjective criterion, but they can work with it, too.

...Should they work with any of it?

But, Shadow, Viktor deserves to have something good, even if it’s a couple of quiet dates that would lead nowhere. Anything but work, and an excuse to get him out of the HQ.

It’s not that Henry wants to push Viktor into anything—Shadow forbid! They want the opposite, they want what Viktor wants. Problem is, Viktor thinks that his wants are irrelevant, and he keeps a tight lid on them.

Maybe they should take Viktor out themself. Get him to _The Rainbow_... They would have never thought they’d miss the early days when their hands still shook at the sound of any male voice except for Viktor’s, and Viktor took them out because they had to get out eventually.

The two of them would go to the nearest café (Henry clinging to Viktor’s hand like a lifeline), and sit there over tea and cakes and light lunch for hours, Henry getting used to being around people.

Viktor brushing off attempts of strangers to flirt with Henry. He would stretch his long legs in tight jeans and light a cigarette and draw Henry into a conversation about nothing and everything. Handsome as all fucks, drawing attention to himself and away from Henry.

They were so, so grateful.

They are still grateful—and they want to return it.

Shadow knows they can’t ever repay everything Viktor has done, and keeps doing, for them, but some things are not meant to be repaid. They just want Viktor to be happy, as much as it is possible in this position.

But they can’t get Viktor out to _The Rainbow_ , can they. It is Vory’s café, and bloodshed is not Henry’s definition of a good outing.

Unless it involves Viktor caving some rotten skulls...

Not in this case. Vory aren’t rotten—most of them. Anton drains the filth fast.

Henry entertains themself imagining these two again instead, in the setting of a café. Viktor with mocaccino—he drinks coffee when he needs a boost, but actually Henry knows he doesn’t like it, neither the taste nor the elevated heart rhythm it gives. But mocaccino is good, he prefers it. Maybe a small, not very sweet cake.

What does Anton like? Suppose he likes tea. Them smiling at each other—Viktor’s real smile, the one that lights up his face, smooths the worry lines. And Anton... Anton is a handsome man, yes.

_...Wait a fucking moment._

The Vory boss fits the description perfectly, at least most things on the list. Fuck. Viktor must have led Jeff on, picking Anton’s traits and mixing in some others. _Fuck_.

Why won’t he let himself be happy?..

Shadow, but what if it is what Viktor craves, what he’d like to have? Surely, someone who is a challenge to him, someone to match his mind... And someone tender, by the Shadow, Viktor deserves someone like that. Someone stubborn enough to deliver that tenderness even when Viktor would refuse it.

Henry’s mind is overclocking. Could they find someone like this? Someone... Organize a meeting... No. No, fuck, it would be bad, because it would be against Viktor’s words. It doesn’t matter whether or not Viktor wants it “deep inside”. If Viktor says he doesn’t need it, they have no right to push him into it. He’s pushed into situations he doesn’t want enough as it is.

…Maybe they should reach out to the Vory. Why the fuck not?


	2. Chapter 2

Anton agrees to this... this _date_ only because it makes the kids happy. Thankfully, it won’t be anything fancy, just a lunch. And he dressed up just... just because. It’s a date, and he’s supposed to be dressed nicely. His best jeans (he checks that they don’t have blood on them), and a nice shirt... Embroidered but not one of the transparent ones, it’s a more decent shirt, red with a flower pattern on the shoulders and back and near the cuffs.

...Gods, he’s too old for this. He stands in front of the mirror and... He’s too old to be set up on a date by the kids. He has enough problems without dates.

But that’s kinda the point, right? In the kids’ minds. He’s overworked, so they have organized some fun for him, a few hours to spend away from work, from problems... And he’d have to be nice. He’d have to talk properly and keep his sarcasm in check and refrain from doing awful flirting...

No, fuck it. He’s going to be himself. That guy, his date, can either take it or walk away. It’s not that Anton intends on being nasty. He just doesn’t want to pretend.

He sighs, his determination failing.

Gods, how are they going to do this? If it’s someone from the Slums, he would know Anton—and that means problems, mostly for that guy. If it’s not someone from the Slums, then fuck him, Anton won’t pretend to be anything he isn’t.

He should have explained his reasons to the kids, why he hasn’t dated anyone all these... what, fifteen years? Fuck.

He just. He can’t afford it. He can’t do this to anyone, his life, his position simply don’t allow him the luxury of dating, even of hookups (and he doesn’t like hookups).

But, fuck, it’s just lunch. Not that they are going to profess eternal love. There’s not even a requirement to meet ever again. He can walk away if he doesn’t like anything about it. And he should tell his... date that he can walk away, too, any time, no worries and no hard feelings. Anton knows he can be too much and can overstep boundaries and can...

He sighs again and rubs his neck. Fuck, he’s overthinking it.

Fuck. He’s never even _had_ a proper date. He couldn’t say this to his kids. He’s nearly forty, they would... Gods, they look up to him, especially Ez, but he knows Alex does, too, and Žal...

He’s doing this for them, and he’s going to do this right, and he will make sure his date enjoys it, and then he’s going to go home and forget about it, that’s all.

***

Viktor is proud of Henry and Jeffrey. They treat it as a mission, and they must have spent considerable time and other resources on this, and of course collaborated with the other party. So he doesn’t want their efforts to be wasted.

He’s not... exactly thrilled about a date: dates are something he does for particular missions. And he has a strange feeling, because... This is not a mission, however much his brain wants to treat it like one.

He’s supposed to go out, have a lunch and spend his time in hopefully good company. No work, no worries, no constantly checking himself on whether his persona has started slipping.

...But who would want him? The real him, not one of the masks.

He assumes they went with the description he provided to Jeffrey that one night—half-joking. But he realizes he would have really enjoyed spending time with someone like... Someone like the Vory boss. Isn’t it pathetic that the only person he feels he could have dated happens to be his enemy?

Standing here, in his apartment, dressing up not for a mission, but for... an outing, he can admit to himself that he doesn’t feel the need to look for a romantic or sexual partner. Has it always been like this? It doesn’t matter, actually, only the mission matters, and he will always do whatever he needs to do: seduce, lead on, lie, fuck...

He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths. This is not a mission. There is no seduction to be done, no sex expected, nothing, not even touching. And if his “date” tries to do something he doesn’t like, Viktor would walk away immediately. He isn’t bound by duty here, or by mission parameters.

He opens his eyes again and studies his own face as though a sketch.

What persona should he wear for this? A bohemian artist? A windheaded socialite? Someone ordinary? Someone... normal. Someone who is not him.

He can maintain a persona for days, weeks, months—he can handle a few hours with no problem.

However... It feels wrong. Not only towards the date, whoever that man is, but mostly towards Henry and Jeff. They worked hard, and out of care for him, not out of maliciousness. Out of all people, these two know he doesn’t like sleeper missions and all aspects of them. They wouldn’t force onto him anyone he might not tolerate.

He’s probably required, expected to be himself.

...How do people do it?

He hasn’t been himself for a long time. Not around strangers. Only rarely around the people he trusts, even.

He hasn’t been himself in _decades_.

At least, he decides, he’s going to have a lunch. That will certainly cheer Jeff and Henry up.

He looks at the man in the mirror again: a simple gray turtleneck, a short woolen coat, and slacks. Yes, this looks like him, he thinks.

***

Anton keeps repeating instructions all the way to the café (“He’s going to sit in the corner booth, and he’s very tall, you won’t miss him.”) and going in, he...

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, damn, those long legs, and that half-shaven head—

_Wait._

He freezes on the spot.

He can turn around and walk away unseen. Just. Walk away and save them both the... the embarrassment of it all, because apparently his kiddies have decided it’s a good idea to set him on a date with _Colonel fucking Watcher._ He’s fucking. He’s going to...

(When Ez asked, he did have Viktor in mind while describing his “ideal date”. Who wouldn’t be interested in such an astonishing, if often frustrating, man?)

But Colonel fucking Watcher is going to worry. This can’t be a trap, at least, Anton doesn’t think it is. Isn’t it? His nemesis wouldn’t use such filthy tactic, not... Not with him. Not through his kids.

And suppose this is real, and the detective doesn’t know who his date is (the colonel wants to have a date, huh...). And then, the date doesn’t turn up, without a notice. And he waits and waits and waits, trying to Analise it, find the reasons. What would he think? That it’s somehow his fault. That maybe his date saw him and decided to turn around.

Fuck. He can’t do this to the detective. They’ve been on each other’s tail for years, he just... he can’t do this.

Anton swallows, checks that his shirt is alright, and steps to the booth. “I assume, _mon Colonel_ , that you are my date.”

It is priceless, to watch how Viktor sits up and, and quirks his brow, fuck, he’s... He’s handsome. Yes.

Anton is fucked. And Viktor is so casual here, though there is a dash of the colonel, too, in the cut of the coat hanging on the rack near their booth.

And then something changes in Viktor’s face, his eyes, and he—fucker, he looks Anton up and down and _up_.

“I thought it might be someone else,” the detective... no, no, Viktor—says. And then he smiles, oh gods, and he looks so fucking young, how old is he? “But to be honest, I’m glad it’s you.”

And Viktor doesn’t lie when he says that. He doesn’t like surprises—he has enough disruptions of the routine and the predictable as it is. But this... This is a pleasant surprise, and such a relief, because they _know_ each other. He gets his legs out of the way, and the Vory boss... No. Anton gets into the booth, and he’s an astonishing sight, and maybe Viktor regrets it just a little bit that he can’t see Anton’s thighs anymore. Anton looks distractingly good in his usual street attire, thick pants (leather?) and the black jacket (smeared with blood, ah)—but he looks good like this, too, in those tight jeans and with the shirt accentuating his physique, and this beautiful, rich embroidery. It suits Anton, this in-your-face-ness.

They talk about the city news, books, music—Viktor can’t even recall the precise topics, he simply... Feels good. He doesn’t have to pretend here, the thought of pretending doesn’t even occur to him. They know so many strange, terrible details of each other’s lives, and they saved each other’s life on several memorable occasions.

Their continuous discussion slips onto work a few times, and they catch each other on it, and Anton chuckles, rubbing the nape of his neck, color on his cheeks... Yes, Viktor wasn’t wrong when he had Anton in mind while describing someone he’d choose in a room of people.

Anton’s flirting is terrible—but Viktor realizes it is meant to be this way. Meant to put him at ease, make him laugh.

...And yet there is an urgency to everything, something like greediness, a hunger. This can’t last. They are here, in their stolen piece of tranquility and ease, just for a little while. They are going to return to their lives in a few hours, the lives where they are enemies, where Viktor tries to stop Anton.

He can see it in Anton’s astonishing eyes. They both feel it.

It makes Viktor’s heart ache.

He realizes that he is reluctant to return to the Colonel.

The evening is coming, and it’s going to be dark soon (their lunch has almost rolled into dinner, both of them reluctant to end this).

But they have to part ways.

Viktor puts on his coat, and they go out, and it’s such a warm evening.

“Vitya?”

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you?”

He turns to Anton, and Anton—Tosha, they have slipped into diminutives, and it feels wrong to return to more official terms right now—Tosha looks contemplative. There is a longing in his eyes, something guarded and fragile at the same time.

Viktor aches.

“Yes.”

Tosha reaches up his hand, and Viktor takes it, squeezes—so warm, and so sure, and so good, and Anton doesn’t wince away from the cold of his hand. And he bends down and he expects—

But he doesn’t expect warm lips on his cheek. (He catches Tosha’s scent—he knows it already, but never so close as it is now.)

“Thank you. I enjoyed spending time with you.” Tosha pulls away, but Viktor doesn’t want him to leave.

And he can’t make Tosha stay. Anton. Anton Rogue, his enemy.

He makes himself smile. “I enjoyed it, too. Maybe meet another time?”

“Another time, yes.” Tosha nods. He rocks on his heels, then nods, seemingly to himself, turns around and walks away resolutely.

***

Anton commends himself on not turning to Vitya—but it’s a sour kind of victory over himself.

He’s had so much fun—though “fun” doesn’t even cover it. He enjoyed himself, and most of all, he enjoyed Viktor’s company, and it seems Viktor—Vik, Vitya—has enjoyed it, too.

Did Ez and Co know whom they were getting him with? Probably. Certainly. Rascals. He’s going to hug them tight as a punishment.

But how can they return to planning each other’s downfall now? He did... Well, maybe he did think about something like this. Spending time with Viktor, away from work. Once. Or twice. Or, okay, maybe more than twice.

And reality has turned out to be so much better, so much more. He forgot about everything—and yet both of them were conscious of being in the city that they tried to get from each other for years; of being who they are.

...Is that what Viktor looks like relaxed and fed properly? Anton would like to see more of him like this.

Anton gets to his apartment, and there’s Ez there, making something that smells like a little burnt potato. Ez lights up when he sees Anton. “You’re back! Well? How did it go?”

Anton smiles. “It was very good. Thank you for organizing it.”

Ez’s face falls. “Then why do you look so sad?” And then he’s hugging Anton tight.

Anton sighs, wraps his arms around Ez, kisses the top of his head. “Do I look sad?”

“Mhm. I’m sorry. We ruined everything, and now you are sadder than before.”

He strokes Ezrah’s back. “No. It’s all right. I really enjoyed it.”

***

Viktor goes to his apartment, after the lunch. And there are Jeff and Henry, looking like they’ve been here for hours, waiting nervously.

(Viktor can still feel the ghost of Anton’s kiss on his cheek.)

He smiles at them. “Tea?”

They hug him from both sides. He knows his face is so unguarded right now they can read it like a book.

He has to leave the city on a mission right the next day, and it goes for two weeks, draining him nearly completely—but he keeps the memory of that... date close, and it helps him get through it.

He even has to go on a “date” for the mission, and the contrast is striking. He can barely keep pretending, and it makes him worry that the date with Tosha might have compromised his ability to pretend.

He is drained by this relatively routine mission more than he usually would be, and goes straight to his apartment, not the HQ, needing complete solitude.

And there’s someone in his apartment and it’s neither Henry nor Jeff. Because Jeffrey doesn’t cook anything that smells like all kinds of heaven, and Henry doesn’t hum in a pleasant low... voice...

He drops his keys and rushes to the kitchen.

Tosha looks up and smiles. “Vitya! They told me you might be back today, but couldn’t say when exactly, and I thought we could...”

“Yes,” he says weakly, and his weakness is the only reason why he has to go closer to Anton and wrap his arms around him. “Yes.”


End file.
